


The Three Pigeons

by amaradangeli



Series: In Washington [10]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: "Bad guys don't get to keep secrets. You wanna keep a secret from me, that's fine."





	The Three Pigeons

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the always incredible [SCIMM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samantha_Carter_is_my_muse/pseuds/Samantha_Carter_is_my_muse).

They didn't often end their days at The Three Pigeons bar instead of Millie's, but sometimes they did. Today was one of those days. It had been hell from the start of their shift to the end. The thing about being a detective was that some days you put pieces together and made arrests. Other days you had your ass handed to you by evidence that just wouldn't jive.

The eyewitnesses – three – told them they were looking for a man. The DNA evidence told them they were looking for a woman. Now, it was entirely possible that the eyewitnesses all mistook a woman for a man. There were lots of reasons that could happen. But it was also just as likely that the DNA evidence the crime scene techs had collected was erroneous. So, they were back at square one. 

Normally, that didn't bother Sam too much. And if it bothered Jack he never really showed it. But on this particular day, not only had what little case they'd cobbled together disintegrated, she'd met his wife. His  _ex_ -wife. If he was chalking up her mood and need for bourbon to the case, she'd just let him. Because she was a little embarrassed to have had the other woman put her off her game.

It had been an innocent meeting, and that was probably the worst of it. Because he'd introduced Sam to the striking woman as his partner in the first ten seconds of the encounter. It wasn't untrue, but Sam found that she wished the other woman had had to wonder, for just a moment, who Sam might be. Though, why she felt the need to make a woman jealous when she'd divorced her husband in the aftermath of their only child's death made Sam feel small and juvenile. 

But it didn't make the bourbon any less appealing.

After the second pour disappeared down her throat, Jack leaned toward her a little and asked, "So, you gonna tell me what this is all about?"

"You were there. It was a bad day."

He nodded once. "Frustrating, yes. Drown your sorrows in Kentucky's finest? Not really."

"I can't have a bad day?"

He raised an eyebrow at her snippy tone. "Sure. But I don't think that's what this is."

"Oh, I can assure you it was a bad day."

"Okay. But I don't think it has a whole lot to do with crappy CSTs."

Shit. Was he calling her out over Sara? She replayed the interaction in her mind. Was she anything less than polite to the woman? 

_A tall, beautiful woman had approached them where they were standing next to a low brick wall discussing an aspect of the case that_ _had them both a little stymied. Sam noticed her first, but the woman's eyes were fixed on Jack. She said hello before he'd even looked and Sam could tell by his reaction to the voice alone that this woman was no stranger._

_He greeted her by name before his eyes even swung in her direction. "Sara."_

_The woman gave him a small, smile and looked curiously between him and Sam._

_He cleared his throat uncomfortably and offered, right away, "This is_ _Kawalsky's_ _replacement. Sam Carter."_

In hindsight, he hadn't even used the word  _partner_. She was  _Kawalsky's_ _replacement_. And that stung. He hadn't even wanted to use a word that  _hinted_  at possession when introducing Sam to the woman he'd chosen to marry. And considering how she had discovered she felt about it, how she was sinking further into those feelings all the time, it really bothered her that she'd been so neatly categorized.

_Sara had been polite, nice even, and had shaken Sam's hand warmly. "It's nice to meet you, Detective Carter."_

_"Sam, please." The response was so ingrained she'd said it before she realized she didn't want such familiarity with the woman._

_T_ _hey made polite small talk about the weather. Sara mentioned a couple of their old friends who were having a party and mentioned he should come, that they'd like to see him, that it had... been a while. And Jack had blown it off in that polite way he had of saying maybe when he really meant no and Sam could see that Sara understood that as clearly as Sam herself did._ _Of course_ _she did. This had been her_ husband _._

_Sara had said_ _goodbye_ _shortly thereafter and Jack had picked right back up in the conversation as if they hadn't been interrupted, but Sam hadn't felt the same all day. Because she'd been confronted with the woman who knew Jack in the ways Sam wanted to and she was jealous._

Damn, but she was jealous. And the alcohol didn't seem to be chasing that particular emotion away. "Why can't it be crappy evidence collection?"

"Because I've seen stuff bother you before, and never has this been your reaction to bad police work. You're not a drinker, Sam."

Well, it wasn't that she never drank, she had with him on several occasions. But he was right. As a general rule, she wasn't a drinker. She was also fairly bad at sharing her feelings and she'd be damned if she was going to tell him she was drinking because she felt inferior to his ex-wife. Hell, she  _was_  inferior to his ex-wife. He'd  _married_  that woman. He hadn't so much as made a pass at her.

He leaned back into his chair despite the way he had to take his life in his hands to do it – the chairs in this joint – hell the whole joint – had seen better decades.  _That was why they liked it. It was a hole in the wall and none of the other cops came in._  "You know what I think?"

"You're gonna tell me, I'm sure."

He grinned at her surliness. "I think this doesn't have anything to do with the case."

"Okay, detective. What's the issue."? She was feeling brave. It must have been the bartender carrying the bottle of bourbon her way.

"Don't know yet." He polished off his Seven & Seven and covered his glass when the bartender moved to make him another.

She spared a moment for utter relief to sweep through her. She was embarrassed to have been jealous, but she'd be mortified if he found out her feelings for him were less than professional because she couldn't keep her act together in the face of a woman who had every right to know him better than Sam herself did.

"And I'm going to let you keep your secret, whatever it is. Because that's just the kind of guy I am."

She snorted. She couldn't help it. "You are  _not_  the kind of guy to let someone keep a secret."

He raised an eyebrow and she caught the look in the mirror that covered the back wall of the bar, despite the obscuring bottles.

"You're a detective," she reminded him unnecessarily.

"Bad guys don't get to keep secrets. You wanna keep a secret from me, that's fine."

She looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"Yep."

"No line of questioning? No guessing until I flinch? No good-cop?"

He grinned. "Nope."

"What gives, O'Neill?"

"I think that whatever's got you drinking on Wednesday night must be pretty important. And I figure you'll talk to me when you're ready."

God, why did he have to be such a good guy? If he was an asshole this whole thing would be easier. If he was an asshole she'd just sleep with him and get it out of her system – bad decisions like Jonas notwithstanding.

She nursed her third – and final – bourbon in silence, trying to figure out what to say to him, what to give him, how to make this whole thing less uncomfortable. "There's something I need to tell you, but I'm not sure how."

"Okay."

"And I don’t know when I'll be ready."

"I'm not going anywhere."

She knew he wasn't and that alone gave her a sense of peace she didn't want to examine too closely. She knew she had issues that made this whole situation with him much more complicated than the simple fact that one wasn't, expressly, meant to sleep with one's partner. Stability and reliability had become so attractive to her over time that those two things alone could have been predictors of her attraction. 

But it was so much more.

"I mentioned Jonas was Air Force, right?"

If he was surprised by the non-sequitur, he didn't show it. "Yeah."

"Did I mention my father was, too?"

"No."

"He was. Retired as a brigadier general."

"That's pretty good."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I moved around a lot as a kid."

"Sure."

"And I don't really know how to handle this much sameness. All the time, the same people, the same job, the same..."

"What?"

 _Feelings._ "Circumstances."

"You mean to tell me you're drinking on a school night because everything is too normal?"

Figures he'd put it like that. "I'm just saying, I'm not used to getting to know people."

If he understood where she was going with that at all he hid it well. But he didn't ask her to elaborate, either, and for that she was grateful.

"Well, you're getting to know me."

"Yes, I am."

"And unless you're planning to up and move, soon, you're just going to get to know more."

"Am I?"

"Sure." True, he'd talked to her about the  _thing he didn't talk about_. And that alone should tell her that he was ready and willing to be open with her. And isn't that all she'd ever really wanted? To be somewhere long enough to really  _know_  somebody?

"Sara's nice." Shit.

"Yeah. She is."

"Are you sorry you're divorced?"

"What kind of question is that?" He looked at her crossways, like maybe she was a little stupid – or a little drunk, and like maybe that was a road he didn't want to walk down.

"I mean, was... you know... the only reason you got divorced."

"I don't want to talk about it."

He said it with such finality she had no choice but to nod. She looked into her drink, found more ice than liquor, but lifted it to her mouth for something to do that wasn't going to damage  _her_  relationship with him.

"Sometimes I still regret not marrying Jonas."

He sighed. "No, you don't."

"I do," she insisted. "There were good things."

"I'm sure there were. But you left. And you left in the big way, Carter. You don't regret not marrying Jonas. You regret not being married. But you're young. It'll happen."

He didn't sound like it would happen with  _him_. But he didn't know she'd been thinking thoughts at all, let alone anything quite so permanent. Hell, she hadn't known she was thinking anything quite so permanent.

She licked the remnants of bourbon off her lips. "I think it's time for me to go home."

"I'll put you in a cab."

Odd, that he wouldn't offer to drive her.

Halfway home she realized he hadn't offered to drive her because their conversation had been weird in a telling sort of way. And that maybe he was starting to clue in on some things she might be feeling. And maybe he didn't want to have to throw the brakes on a half-drunken pass she probably wouldn't have made.

She told herself she wouldn't be embarrassed next time she saw him. She told herself that he only  _thought_  he knew something. She told herself that even if he  _did_  know something, it was a good thing.

She should have gone right to sleep with a belly full of bourbon. She didn't. She tossed and turned for half the night wondering if it was at all significant that she vaguely resembled his ex-wife.


End file.
